


I Didn't Mean to Hit You

by Shanks



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanks/pseuds/Shanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanov was actually trying to enjoy her day off when that bastard, Clint Barton hit her. Turns out Natasha knows Clint a little more than she lets on and he's just shocked he's never actually met her before. </p>
<p>AU: Natasha Romanov made another call. Clint Barton got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way and she was sent to kill him. Now, lucky her, she's been assigned as his partner to take down a crime organization that may be involved with a one Mr. Anthony Edward Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn't Mean to Hit You

**Author's Note:**

> Crackfic!  
> I'm so sorry.  
> This actually started as a simple project for my 750 words a day and turned into a story that I'm interested in. My usual story is grim or depressing so these chapters will be a wonderful, on-going reprieve from gloom and doom and death!  
> It's not a terribly serious project, but... yep.

The Buick slammed against her side. It seemed like it shattered several ribs even inches before it touched her and she was floundering on the ground like a fish. I admit that I'm a shitty driver, of course, but I never thought I'd actually hit a person. Especially not one so hard to miss.

"Hey would you call an ambo?" is something I'm pretty sure I wanted to shout, but instead I think I was a hysterical, flailing man, freaking out by the curb of the road and hovering over a female who looked like she was going to kill me as soon as she could stand. 

"Help? Help!" I screamed in the most manly way possible.

She glared at me between pursed lips. I didn't think someone could get hit like that and just stand up. She was hunched over and holding her ribs, but she was definitely standing up. 

"The fuck is wrong with you, ass-clown?"  
I blinked a response back, hoping she could speak fake Morse-code through my eyelashes. "I'm sorry."  
"You're damn straight you’re sorry. You're driving me to the damn hospital."

She grabbed my shirt collar and looked at me with a harsh stare for a few seconds before letting me go and tossing me roughly to the passenger's side. 

"Second thought, I'm driving. "

I couldn't blame her for not wanting me to drive after I'd already hit her, but if she thought I was going to let some stranger get my keys... she was already starting the car. 

"You swiped my keys!"  
“They’re not yours.”  
“I didn't steal this car if that’s what you’re implying.” I was just borrowing it.  
“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”  
“I feel like you’re judging me.”  
"You ran into me, cunt dragon!" she spat back. “Of course I’m judging you!”

She had very pretty red hair that sat on her shoulders. I couldn't help but stare at it while she drove. I was too baffled to do much else, to be honest. I attempted basic conversation like a normal person - except I wasn't exactly sure what a normal person would say in a situation where the person they just ran over hijacked their stolen car to go to the hospital. 

"So... what were you doing? You know before I hit you?" I was starting to gain my bearings, even though it appeared she already had hers, if she even lost them. What the hell were bearings anyway?  
"What were you doing when you hit me?"  
"I was just driving to-"  
"Not very well."  
"I'm sorry, what?"  
"You weren't driving very well. How did you even get your license?"  
"My line of work kinda requires that I-"  
"So you don't have one."  
"What?" she was actually starting to irritate me.  
"It's obvious that you've never learned how to properly drive a car. Either your line of work is being a dumbass or you're lying through your teeth."  
I wasn't lying and my job is technically classified. So dumbass it was. I sat back in my seat, really unable to say anything.  
"Stop staring."

Shit... I was staring. "My bad?"  
"What are you, ten? Just stop staring."  
I was going to say 'I can't because you're hot.' Which would typically be a good way to break the ice, but instead I just looked at the road and stopped staring. She scared me. We passed two hospitals.  
"Where are you going?"  
"To the hospital."  
"We passed, like, three of them."  
"Then obviously we're not going to those hospitals. Besides we only passed two. And I know you know we only passed two because you were counting out loud."  
"No I wasn't."  
"Whispering in a silent car counts as out loud."  
"Fine, I was. But why are we going to a different one?"  
"My line of work." 

That was seriously the only answer she would give me? Maybe she was a nurse - or I'm sorry, it's possible for women to be doctors and I don't want to sound like a misogynist so maybe she was a doctor and wanted to go to her hospital. She passed around a large familiar hospital and parked around back. 

"You're a SHIELD agent?" I shouted.  
"No shit... you too?" She smiled and held out her hand. "Natasha Romanov."  
I'm not sure if I shook her hand or if I just stared awkwardly at it. "Yeah, I'm Clint."  
"Clint...?"  
"What you haven't heard of me? Clint Barton!"  
"Alright hun."  
Was she fucking serious? "Hawkeye?"  
"Oh yeah. Nice to finally meet you, Circus Orphan."  
I must have given her the stuck up bitch face because her own face softened.  
"Well good; I won't have to explain why I ended up here, you can do it." She smiled like a devil woman. 

Three agents approached the car taking off their sunglasses in unison. It was probably because of Coulson, that flashy bastard. 

"Well, I'm glad to see the two of you have already been acquainted." He'd been airlifted in as soon as SHIELD caught wind that Romanoff and I were in a car together and neither had died yet... probably. SHIELD knew what we were up to before either of us did.  
"Yeah, he's a charmer," she said. Her voice was so full of sarcasm it was dripping from her tongue. She opened the car door and stepped out in a flurry.  
"Are you just going to leave the car running?" I turned, got out, and punched Phil's shoulder. He just kinda stared at me. "What's with the dame?" I asked hushed.  
"I'm not married," she shouted over her shoulder. She was unbuttoning her shirt in the middle of the parking lot. I was staring, of course, so was another agent, and she didn't seem to give a rats ass. She poked one of her ribs and Coulson laughed a little, waving us into the hospital.  
"You guys were actually assigned as partners."  
Her groan was audible.  
"Rude," I whispered under my breath.  
"So was hitting me with a fucking car," she mumbled back.  
"Are you always this sour, or?"  
"You hit me... with... a fucking... car. Coulson, requesting permission to snap his neck under the premise of weeding out idiots?"  
"Good luck, Sweetheart," I spat back. The look she gave me might have actually killed me if Coulson hadn't interrupted. 

"Romanoff, Barton, shut up for five seconds and sit down. I need to have a serious conversation with the two of you. By conversation I mean you need to zip your traps and let me talk at you or I'll leave you both jellied on the floor thinking you’re trapped in a 90s cartoon." 

Coulson is scary. 

Even Natasha shut up, so I figured Coulson's words had truth in them and I quieted immediately. He walked us to an elevator, hit the down button, and stood calmly with his hands folded in front of him.  
"I have an assignment in Manhattan," he hummed.  
"Really." Natasha liked to say things rather than ask them. "You're not sending me half way across the world, then."  
"Domestic isn't really your thing, is it, sweetheart?"  
"Domestic isn't yours either, Circus Orphan."  
"What do you just have my entire file in your head space or what?"  
She grinned. That cheeky bastard woman grinned. 

Coulson sighed loudly, more to get our attention than anything else and we both stopped doing anything that would make noise.  
"Stop holding your breath, Barton," he told me. I exhaled dramatically just to be a pain in the ass.  
"Now, we have eyes everywhere - I'm sure you've heard of Tony Stark?"  
We both nodded along to the rhetorical question.  
"We have reason to believe he's building a super weapon."  
I couldn't help it. My laughter filled the elevator shaft, I'm sure, because I was almost buckled over on the ground. "Stark? Stark is a target?" I could hardly get the words out between breaths.  
"He's a genius with a bad attitude and authority problems. His entire enterprise was built around creating weapons on a mass scale and profiting from war. You think he had a sudden turn around in his morality and that's what caused him to drop the weapons program and focus on clean energy?"  
"Didn't he get tortured? Doesn't that have a tendency to make people rethi-" Natasha hit me in the gut.  
"No, not really."  
Now I needed to get a hold of her files, if only just to get back at her. 

 

"The point is," Coulson said, clearing his throat. "We need to get a hold of it before anyone else. Miss Romanoff already has an established alias within Stark Industries. We've managed to get you a job as a window washer."  
That snarky bastard had a grin on his face as he slapped my shoulder.  
"Yes sir."

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky's seriously going to be cross when he finds out that the whippersnapper from two streets down stole his Buick.


End file.
